


Sorry for Being So Late

by goldpeak



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Exhaustion, Fainting, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, New York, Passing Out, Sleep Deprivation, Tired Alex, Worried John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 11:45:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15412200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldpeak/pseuds/goldpeak
Summary: “Sorry for being so late,” Alex slurred, before his vision went black and he hit the floor.





	Sorry for Being So Late

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even proofread this. Probably a ton of typos. It's fine.

The clicking of keyboards filled the office floor of the newsroom Alex was sat in. The big floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a dark cityscape, the only illumination coming from the yellow windows of the city that never sleeps. The cubicles, symmetrically placed to house 20 different employees, were little beacons of light themselves, from lamps and computer screens.

The office was typically empty - or close to it - by the late hour of 1:00 AM. However, tonight, almost every single employee was still at their desk, typing rapidly.

Election night. Two mass shootings. An airplane crash. Three fires in New York.

Every single reporter had a story to cover tonight. The world was falling into pieces, and the reporters simultaneously loved and hated that fact.

Alex was probably the least tired out of everyone here. Seeing that his eyelids were drooping, that said something for the state of everyone else. Late nights like this were frequent for Alex, and while he secretly enjoyed them, tonight he wasn’t having it.

Aaron Burr, the bald man three cubicles down, was reporting the same story as Alex was. They had interviewed the same people and were using the same sources, and now, it was just a race against the clock for one of them to post it.

Alex was winning. He thought. He was editing the very last paragraphs of his article, and as soon as the clock hit 1:24 AM, he had hit the submit button.

With a victorious cry, he lurched from his chair and threw his fist above his head.

“Suck on that, Burr!”

A sigh came from the man in question who turned around in his swiveling chair to glare at Alexander, who was still standing high and proud - though swaying a bit on his feet.

“Nice job, Hamilton.” Burr’s face revealed that the sentence was not genuine, but Alex didn’t care at all.

Alex sat back down and closed out of all his browser tabs before shutting off his computer, and finally grabbing his phone out of his desk drawer. He had 30 missed notifications, 25 of which were texts from his boyfriend, John.

Alex wanted to kick himself in the head when he realized he had forgotten to even mention his new plans to John, but knew the boy would understand. His most recent text to Alex was something along the lines of: “I texted your boss. Take care of yourself. Wake me when you get home.”

So, John knew he wasn’t dead. That was nice.

He grabbed his coat and shrugged it on before leaving the floor with only a sarcastic salute to Burr, who sighed once more.

He tapped his foot as the elevator slowly floated down to the lobby floor, and slipped out of the doors before they were finished opening. Waving a goodbye to the secretary, Alex set off into the cold November night armed with just the coat on his back, and his gloves.

He only lived a few blocks away, and he figured walking would help calm his adrenaline from the race against Burr. Tossing around all night would not help John, who he knew had an important meeting in the morning.

He was right. His heart rate slowed, but with that, his fingers began to shake and a splitting headache descended upon his head. Chalking it up to the cold, Alex ignored the discomfort and pushed on.

It had just began to drizzle when Alex stepped into the dim lobby of his and John’s apartment building. The receptionist wasn’t here, as the building was so low-traffic that there was no night staff.

Alex used his set of keys to unlock the doors, heading for the elevators. He had to hop up a tiny flight of just 5 stairs, easy enough, but while doing so his head began to spin and he felt bile rising in his throat.

Swallowing heavily, he furrowed his brow and considered his symptoms as he waited for the elevator to come to him.

He stepped inside, and made the mental conclusion that his symptoms were a result of mere exhaustion. He hadn’t slept much the night before, anyhow, so that had to be the explanation.

The elevator took its sweet time getting to the top floor, but when it finally landed, Alex was unsure if he should step off. Well, if he could step off. His world was still swaying and his headache was getting worse, causing little black spots in front of his eyes.

He took a swaying step out of the traveling box and onto the carpeted floor. With a hand on the wall, he took a deep breath before clearing his throat and proceeding down the hallway.

He made it to his door with moderate difficulty, and tried three times to jam the key in the lock - the tremors in his hands making that difficult.

“Damn coffee jitters,” Alex muttered to himself as the key finally slid into the lock. He yanked the door open, accidentally slamming it against the wall.

“‘Lex?” John slurred from the bedroom down the hall.

“I’m home,” Alex said, slipping his shoes off. Losing his balance momentarily, he placed a hand on the wall again to steady himself.

The soft thump of socks on hardwood floors could be heard, and then John was there wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist from behind.

The warm weight of his boyfriend served to ground Alex, and he turned around in John’s grasp with a little chuckle. He still didn’t feel very good, though, and as John looked up at him with nothing shy of adoration, Alex felt darkness start to overcome his vision.

“Sorry for being so late,” Alex slurred, before his vision went black and he hit the floor.

-

“Alex!”

The cry was far off, as if shrouded by some thick fabric, or behind a closed door.

“Alex! Lex!”

The voice got a little louder, as if it broke though the shroud.

A hand on his shoulder was the final straw before Alex snapped open his eyes and sat up with a jolt.

“Easy, Lex,” John soothed, pushing on his shoulder to lay Alex back down. “Stay there for a moment.”

“What happened?” Alex murmured, blinking to adjust to the light. He felt groggy, and his head was pounding.

“You passed out in my arms,” John said, his voice a little anxious. “You haven’t eaten or slept, have you?”

Furrowing his brow, Alex shook his head. He hadn’t eaten since the previous day - or, since it was past midnight, technically two days ago. Sleep… well. That was obvious.

“Can you sit up?” John asked tentatively.

“Yeah, sure,” Alex huffed, heaving himself to a sitting position and ignoring the way his head spun and throbbed. “I’m fine. I just need a nap.”

“You need 10 hours of deep sleep,” John corrected. “And a meal. You’re gonna have some yogurt.”

“Yogurt?” Alex mumbled.

“It’s all we have. It’s too late for takeout.”

“Oh.”

He took in his surroundings, realizing that he was still on the floor by the front door, but now leaning against the wall opposite it. John returned quickly with a bowl of creamy white yogurt, and watched Alex intently while he ate.

He finished the bowl quickly, but eating anything after such a long period of not eating… well, anything besides coffee, upset his stomach, and he grimaced.

“C’mon Lex. Bed.”

He smiled weakly and let John help him to his feet, arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders as he practically dragged Alex to their bedroom.

Alex managed to peel off his coat and toe off his socks, but beyond that, was useless as he didn’t have the balance to take off his jeans.

John undid Alex’s belt for him, and ignored his boyfriend’s sarcastic comments, before helping him wriggle out of his jeans. He tossed him a pair of sweatpants and Alex managed to put those on himself, before rolling over and into the bed and nuzzling into the comforters.

Taking a moment to observe his sleepy boyfriend, John flipped off the light and climbed into bed himself, shortly thereafter a warm weight curled into his side and he felt a feather-light kiss pressed to his shoulder.

“Goodnight,” John murmured, wrapping an arm around his sleepy Alex.

“‘Night,” Alex said back, punctuated by a tiny snore.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A little hurt/comfort Lams to get me back into the swing of writing Hamilton.
> 
> Got an idea for a one-shot? Drop it in the comments. If I like it, I might write it!


End file.
